TS 
31 1? 


EKED 
FLOWER 


A&NDYKE 


University  of  California 


This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


Form  L-9-15j«-8,'24 


BY  HENRY  VAN    DYKE 

Fighting  for  Peace 
The  Unknown  Quantity 
The  Ruling  Passion 
The  Blue  Flower 


Out-of-Doors  in  the  Holy  Land 
Days  Off 
Little  Rivers 
Fisherman's  Luck 


Poems,  Collection  in  one  volume 


The  Red  Flower 

The  Grand  Canyon,  and  Other  Poems 

The  White  Bees,  and  Other  Poems 

The  Builders,  and  Other  Poems 

Music,  and  Other  Poems 

The  Toiling  of  Felix,  and  Other  Poems 

The  House  of  Rimmon 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


THE   RED   FLOWER 


THE  RED  FLOWER 


POEMS  WRITTEN  IN  WAR  TIME 


BY 
HENRY  VAN  DYKE 

D.  C.  L.   (OXON.) 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1918 

28360 


Copyright,  1916,  1917,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons 

Published  November,  1917 
Reprinted  December,  1917 


Copyright,  1915, 1916,  by  The  Outlook  Company 

Copyright,  1916,  1917,  by  Harper  &  Brothers 

Copyright,  1916,  by  American  Academy  of  Arts  and  Letters 

Copyright,  1916,  by  The  Kalon  Publishing  Company,  Inc. 

Copyright,  1917,  by  The  Independent 
Copyright,  1917,  by  The  New  York  Times  Company 


PREFACE 

These  are  verses  that  came  to  me  in  this 
dreadful  war  time  amid  the  cares  and  labors 
of  a  heavy  task. 

Two  of  the  poems,  "A  Scrap  of  Paper" 
and  "Stand  Fast,"  were  written  in  1914  and 
bore  the  signature  Civis  Americanus—^the 
use  of  my  own  name  at  that  time  being  im 
possible.  Two  others,  "Lights  Out"  and 
"Remarks  about  Kings,"  were  read  for  me 
by  Robert  Underwood  Johnson  at  the  meet 
ing  of  the  American  Academy  in  Boston, 
November,  1915,  at  which  I  was  unable  to 
be  present. 

The  rest  of  the  verses  were  printed  after 
I  had  resigned  my  diplomatic  post  and  was 
free  to  say  what  I  thought  and  felt,  without 
reserve. 

The  "  Interludes  in  Holland  "  are  thoughts 
of  the  peaceful  things  that  will  abide  for  all 
the  world  after  we  have  won  this  war  against 
war. 

STLVANOBA,  October  1,  1917. 


CONTENTS 

PREMONITION 

PAG* 

THE  RED  FLOWER  (JUNE,  1914)    .    .  3 

THE  TRIAL  AS  BY  FIRE 

A  SCRAP  OF  PAPER 7 

STAND  FAST 8 

LIGHTS  OUT  (1915) 10 

REMARKS  ABOUT  KINGS 12 

WAR-MUSIC      13 

MIGHT  AND  RIGHT 16 

THE  PRICE  OF  PEACE 17 

STORM-MUSIC 18 

FRANCE  AND  BELGIUM 

THE  BELLS  OF  MALINES  (AUGUST  17, 

1914)      23 

THE  NAME  OF  FRANCE 26 

JEANNE  D'ARC  RETURNS  (1914-1916)  28 

INTERLUDES  IN  HOLLAND 

THE  HEAVENLY  HILLS  OF  HOLLAND  .  31 

THE  PROUD  LADY 33 

FLOOD-TIDE   OF   FLOWERS    (IN   HOL 
LAND)     37 

[vii] 


ENTER  AMERICA 

PAGE 

AMERICA'S  PROSPERITY      41 

THE  GLORY  OF  SHIPS 42 

MARE  LIBERUM 45 

"  LIBERTY  ENLIGHTENING  THE  WORLD'  '  47 

THE  OXFORD  THRUSHES  (FEBRUARY, 

1917)      49 

HOMEWARD  BOUND        51 


[  viii  ] 


PREMONITION 


THE  RED   FLOWER 
JUNE,    1914 

In  the  pleasant  time  of  Pentecost, 

By  the  little  river  Kyll, 
I  followed  the  angler's  winding  path 

Or  waded  the  stream  at  will, 
And  the  friendly  fertile  German  land 

La"y  round  me  green  and  still. 

But  all  day  long  on  the  eastern  bank 

Of  the  river  cool  and  clear, 
Where  the  curving  track  of  the  double  rails 

Was  hardly  seen  though  near, 
The  endless  trams  of  German  troops 

Went  rolling  down  to  Trier. 

They  packed  the  windows  with  bullet  heads 

And  caps  of  hodden  gray; 
They  laughed  and  sang  and  shouted  loud 

When  the  trains  were  brought  to  a  stay; 
They  waved  their  hands  and  sang  again 

As  they  went  on  their  iron  way. 

No  shadow  fell  on  the  smiling  land, 

No  cloud  arose  in  the  sky; 
I  could  hear  the  river's  quiet  tune 

When  the  trains  had  rattled  by; 
But  my  heart  sank  low  with  a  heavy  sense 

Of  trouble, — I  knew  not  why. 
[31 


Then  came  I  into  a  certain  field 

Where  the  devil's  paint-brush  spread 

'Mid  the  gray  and  green  of  the  rolling  hills 
A  flaring  splotch  of  red, — 

An  evil  omen,  a  bloody  sign, 
And  a  token  of  many  dead. 

I  saw  in  a  vision  the  field-gray  horde 
Break  forth  at  the  devil's  hour, 

And  trample  the  earth  into  crimson  mud 
In  the  rage  of  the  Will  to  Power, — 

All  this  I  dreamed  in  the  valley  of  Kyll, 
At  the  sign  of  the  blood-red  flower. 


4] 


THE  TRIAL  AS  BY  FIRE 


A  SCRAP  OF  PAPER 

"Will  you  go  to  war  just  for  a  scrap  of  paper?" — Ques 
tion  of  the  German  Chancellor  to  the  British  Ambas 
sador,  August  5,  1914. 

A    mocking    question !     Britain's    answer 

•    came 

Swift  as  the  light  and  searching  as  the 
flame. 

"Yes,  for  a  scrap  of  paper  we  will  fight 
Till  our  last  breath,  and  God  defend  the 
right ! 

"A  scrap  of  paper  where  a  name  is  set 
Is  strong  as  duty's  pledge  and  honor's  debt. 

"A  scrap  of  paper  holds  for  man  and  wife 
The  sacrament  of  love,  the  bond  of  life. 

"A  scrap  of  paper  may  be  Holy  Writ 
With  God's  eternal  word  to  hallow  it. 

"A  scrap  of  paper  binds  us  both  to  stand 
Defenders  of  a  neutral  neighbor  land. 

"By  God,  by  faith,  by  honor,  yes!     We 

fight 
To  keep  our  name  upon  that  paper  white." 

September,  1914. 

[7] 


STAND  FAST 

Stand  fast,  Great  Britain ! 
Together  England,  Scotland,  Ireland  stand 
One  in  the  faith  that  makes  a  mighty  land, — 
True  to  the  bond  you  gave  and  will  not 

break 

And  fearless  in  the  fight  for  conscience'  sake ! 
Against  the  Giant  Robber  clad  in  steel, 
With  blood  of  trampled  Belgium  on  his  heel, 
Striding  through  France  to  strike  you  down 

at  last, 

Britain,  stand  fast! 

Stand  fast,  brave  land ! 
The  Huns  are  thundering  toward  the  citadel ; 
They  prate  of  Culture  but  their  path  is  Hell; 
Their   light   is   darkness,   and   the   bloody 

sword 

They  wield  and  worship  is  their  only  Lord. 
O  land  where  reason  stands  secure  on  right, 
O  land  where  freedom  is  the  source  of  light, 
Against  the  mailed  Barbarians'  deadly  blast, 
Britain,  stand  fast ! 


Stand  fast,  dear  land! 
Thou  island  mother  of  a  world-wide  race, 
Whose  children  speak  thy  tongue  and  love 

thy  face, 
Their  hearts  and  hopes  are  with  thee  in  the 

strife, 
Their  hands  will  break  the  sword  that  seeks 

thy  life; 

Fight  on  until  the  Teuton  madness  cease; 
Fight  bravely  on,  until  the  word  of  peace 
Is  spoken  in  the  English  tongue  at  last, — 
Britain,  stand  fast ! 

September,  1914. 


LIGHTS  OUT 

(1915) 

"Lights  out"  along  the  land, 

"Lights  out"  upon  the  sea. 

The  night  must  put  her  hiding  hand 

O'er  peaceful  towns  where  children  sleep, 

And  peaceful  ships  that  darkly  creep 

Across  the  waves,  as  if  they  were  not  free. 

The  dragons  of  the  air, 
The  hell-hounds  of  the  deep, 
Lurking  and  prowling  everywhere, 
Go  forth  to  seek  their  helpless  prey, 
Not  knowing  whom  they  maim  or  slay — 
Mad  harvesters,  who  care  not  what  they 
reap. 

Out  with  the  tranquil  lights, 
Out  with  the  lights  that  burn 
For  love  and  law  and  human  rights! 
Set  back  the  clock  a  thousand  years: 
All  they  have  gained  now  disappears, 
And  the  dark  ages  suddenly  return. 


10] 


Kaiser  who  loosed  wild  death, 
And  terror  in  the  night — 
God  grant  you  draw  no  quiet  breath, 
Until  the  madness  you  began 
Is  ended,  and  long-suffering  man, 
Set  free  from  war  lords,  cries,  "Let  there 
be  Light." 

October,  1915. 

Read  at  the  meeting  of  the  American  Academy,  Boston, 
November,  1915. 


Ill 


REMARKS  ABOUT  KINGS 

"God  said  I  am  tired  of  kings." — EMERSON. 

God  said,  "I  am  tired  of  kings," — 

But  that  was  a  long  while  ago! 

And  meantime  man  said,  "No, — 

I  like  their  looks  in  their  robes  and  rings." 

So  he  crowned  a  few  more, 

And  they  went  on  playing  the  game  as 

before, 
Fighting  and  spoiling  things. 

Man  said,  "I  am  tired  of  kings! 
Sons  of  the  robber-chiefs  of  yore, 
They  make  me  pay  for  their  lust  and  their 

war; 

I  am  the  puppet,  they  pull  the  strings; 
The  blood  of  my  heart  is  the  wine  they 

drink. 

I  will  govern  myself  for  awhile  I  think, 
And  see  what  that  brings!" 

Then  God,  who  made  the  first  remark, 
Smiled  in  the  dark. 

October,  1915. 

Read  at  the  meeting  of  the  American  Academy,  Boston, 
November,  1915. 


[12 


WAR-MUSIC 

Break  off!     Dance  no  more! 

Danger  is  at  the  door. 

Music  is  in  arms. 
To  signal  war's  alarms. 

Hark,  a  sudden  trumpet  calling 

Over  the  hill ! 
Why  are  you  calling,  trumpet,  calling? 

What  is  your  will? 

Men,  men,  men ! 
Men  who  are  ready  to  fight 
For  their  country's  life,  and  the  right 
Of  a  liberty-loving  land  to  be 

Free,  free,  free ! 
Free  from  a  tyrant's  chain, 
Free  from  dishonor's  stain, 
Free  to  guard  and  maintain 
All  that  her  fathers  fought  for, 
All  that  her  sons  have  wrought  for, 

Resolute,  brave,  and  free ! 

Call  again,  trumpet,  call  again, 
Call  up  the  men' 


13 


Do  you  hear  the  storm  of  cheers 

Mingled  with  the  women's  tears 
And  the  tramp,  tramp,  tramp  of  marching 
feet? 

Do  you  hear  the  throbbing  drum 

As  the  hosts  of  battle  come 
Keeping  time,  time,  time  to  its  beat? 

O  Music  give  a  song 

To  make  their  spirit  strong 
For  the  fury  of  the  tempest  they  must  meet. 

The  hoarse  roar 
Of  the  monster  guns; 
And  the  sharp  bark 
Of  the  lesser  guns; 
The  whine  of  the  shells, 
The  rifles'  clatter 
Where  the  bullets  patter, 
The  rattle,  rattle,  rattle 
Of  the  mitrailleuse  in  battle, 
And  the  yells 

Of  the  men  who  charge  through  hells 
Where  the  poison  gas  descends, 
And  the  bursting  shrapnel  rends 
Limb  from  limb 
In  the  dim 

Chaos  and  clamor  of  the  strife 
Where  no  man  thinks  of  his  life 
But  only  of  fighting  through, 
Blindly  fighting  through,  through! 
[141 


Tis  done 
At  last ! 

The  victory  won, 
The  dissonance  of  warfare  past! 

O  Music  mourn  the  dead 
Whose  loyal  blood  was  shed, 

And  sound  the  taps  for  every  hero  slain ; 
Then  lead  into  the  song 
That  made  their  spirit  strong, 

And  tell  the  world  they  did  not  die  in  vain. 

Thank  God  we  can  see,  in  the  glory  of  morn. 
The  invincible  flag  that  our  fathers  de 
fended; 
And  our  hearts  can  repeat  what  the  heroes 

have  sworn, 
That  war  shall  not  end  till  the  war-lust 

is  ended. 
Then  the  bloodthirsty  sword  shall  no  longer 

be  lord 
Of  the  nations  oppressed  by  the  conqueror's 

horde, 

But  the  banners  of  freedom  shall  peace 
fully  wave 
O'er  the  world  of  the  free  and  the  lands 

of  the  brave. 
May,  1916. 


[15] 


MIGHT  AND  RIGHT 

If  Might  made  Right,  life  were  a  wild- 
beasts'  cage; 

If  Right  made  Might,  this  were  the  golden 
age; 

But  now,  until  we  win  the  long  campaign, 

Right  must  gain  Might  to  conquer  and  to 
reign. 

July  1,  1915. 


[16] 


THE  PRICE  OF  PEACE 

Peace  without  Justice  is  a  low  estate, — 

A  coward  cringing  to  an  iron  Fate! 

But   Peace   through   Justice   is   the   great 

ideal, — 
We'll  pay  the  price  of  war  to  make  it  real. 

December  28,  1916. 


(17] 


STORM-MUSIC 

O  Music  hast  thou  only  heard 
The  laughing  river,  the  singing  bird, 
The  murmuring  wind  in  the  poplar-trees, — 
Nothing  but  Nature's  melodies? 
Nay,  thou  nearest  all  her  tones, 
As  a  Queen  must  hear! 
Sounds  of  wrath  and  fear, 
Mutterings,  shouts,  and  moans, 
Madness,  tumult,  and  despair, — 
All  she  has  that  shakes  the  air 
With  voices  fierce  and  wild ! 
Thou   art   a  Queen   and   not   a   dreaming 

child, — 

Put  on  thy  crown  and  let  us  hear  thee  reign 
Triumphant  in  a  world  of  storm  and  strain  ! 

Echo  the  long-drawn  sighs 
Of  the  mounting  wind  in  the  pines; 
And  the  sobs  of  the  mounting  waves  that 

rise 

In  the  dark  of  the  troubled  deep 

To  break  on  the  beach  in  fiery  lines. 

Echo  the  far-off  roll  of  thunder, 

Rumbling  loud 
And  ever  louder,  under 
The  blue-black  curtain  of  cloud, 
Where  the  lightning  serpents  gleam. 
Echo  the  moaning 
[18] 


Of  the  forest  in  its  sleep 
Like  a  giant  groaning 
In  the  torment  of  a  dream. 

Now  an  interval  of  quiet 
For  a  moment  holds  the  air 
In  the  breathless  hush 
Of  a  silent  prayer. 

Then  the  sudden  rush 
Of  the  rain,  and  the  riot 
Of  the  shrieking,  tearing  gale 
Breaks  loose  in  the  night, 
With  a  fusillade  of  hail ! 
Hear  the  forest  fight, 

With  its  tossing  arms  that  crack  and  clash 
In  the  thunder's  cannonade, 
While  the  lightning's  forked  flash 

Brings  the  old  hero-trees  to  the  ground 
with  a  crash! 

Hear  the  breakers'  deepening  roar, 
Driven  like  a  herd  of  cattle 
In  the  wild  stampede  of  battle, 
Trampling,  trampling,  trampling,  to  over 
whelm  the  shore ! 


19 


Is  it  the  end  of  all? 

Will  the  land  crumble  and  fall? 

Nay,  for  a  voice  replies 

Out  of  the  hidden  skies, 
"Thus  far,  O  sea,  shalt  thou  go, 
So  long,  O  wind,  shalt  thou  blow: 
Return  to  your  bounds  and  cease, 
And  let  the  earth  have  peace!" 

O  Music,  lead  the  way — 

The  stormy  night  is  past, 
Lift  up  our  hearts  to  greet  the  day, 
And  the  joy  of  things  that  last. 

The  dissonance  and  pain 

That  mortals  must  endure, 
Are  changed  in  thine  immortal  strain 
To  something  great  and  pure. 

True  love  will  conquer  strife, 

And  strength  from  conflict  flows, 
For  discord  is  the  thorn  of  life 
And  harmony  the  rose. 

May.  1916. 


FRANCE  AND  BELGIUM 


THE  BELLS  OF  MALINES 
AUGUST  17,  1914 

The  gabled  roofs  of  old  Malines 
Are  russet  red  and  gray  and  green, 
And  o'er  them  in  the  sunset  hour 
Looms,  dark  and  huge,  St.  Rombold's  tower. 
High  in  that  rugged  nest  concealed, 
The  sweetest  bells  that  ever  pealed, 
The  deepest  bells  that  ever  rung, 
The  lightest  bells  that  ever  sung, 
Are  waiting  for  the  master's  hand 
To  fling  their  music  o'er  the  land. 

And  shall  they  ring  to-night,  Malines? 
In  nineteen  hundred  and  fourteen, 
The  frightful  year,  the  year  of  woe, 
When  fire  and  blood  and  rapine  flow 
Across  the  land  from  lost  Liege, 
Storm-driven  by  the  German  rage? 
The  other  carillons  have  ceased: 
Fallen  is  Hasselt,  fallen  Diest, 
From  Ghent  and  Bruges  no  voices  come, 
Antwerp  is  silent,  Brussels  dumb  ! 


23] 


But  in  thy  belfry,  O  Malines, 
The  master  of  the  bells  unseen 
Has  climbed  to  where  the  keyboard  stands, — 
To-night  his  heart  is  in  his  hands ! 
Once  more,  before  invasion's  hell 
Breaks  round  the  tower  he  loves  so  well, 
Once  more  he  strikes  the  well-worn  keys, 
And  sends  aerial  harmonies 
Far-floating  through  the  twilight  dim 
In  patriot  song  and  holy  hymn. 

O  listen,  burghers  of  Malines! 
Soldier  and  workman,  pale  beguine. 
And  mother  with  a  trembling  flock 
Of  children  clinging  to  thy  frock, — 
Look  up  and  listen,  listen  all ! 
What  tunes  are  these  that  gently  fall 
Around  you  like  a  benison? 
"The  Flemish  Lion,"  " Brabanconne," 
"O  brave  Liege,"  and  all  the  airs 
That  Belgium  in  her  bosom  bears. 


24] 


Ring  up,  ye  silvery  octaves  high, 
Whose  notes  like  circling  swallows  fly; 
And  ring,  each  old  sonorous  bell, — 
"Jesu,"  "Maria,"  "Michael!" 
Weave  in  and  out,  and  high  and  low, 
The  magic  music  that  you  know, 
And  let  it  float  and  flutter  down 
To  cheer  the  heart  of  the  troubled  town. 
Ring  out,  "Salvator,"  lord  of  all, — 
"Roland"  in  Ghent  may  hear  thee  call! 

O  brave  bell-music  of  Malines, 

In  this  dark  hour  how  much  you  mean ! 

The  dreadful  night  of  blood  and  tears 

Sweeps  down  on  Belgium,  but  she  hears 

Deep  in  her  heart  the  melody 

Of  songs  she  learned  when  she  was  free. 

She  will  not  falter,  faint,  nor  fail, 

But  fight  until  her  rights  prevail 

And  all  her  ancient  belfries  ring 

"The  Flemish  Lion,"  "God  Save  the  King !" 


25] 


THE  NAME  OF  FRANCE 

Give  us  a  name  to  fill  the  mind 
With  the  shining  thoughts  that  lead  man 
kind, 

The  glory  of  learning,  the  joy  of  art, — 
A  name  that  tells  of  a  splendid  part 
In  the  long,  long  toil  and  the  strenuous  fight 
Of  the  human  race  to  win  its  way 
From  the  feudal  darkness  into  the  day 
Of  Freedom,  Brotherhood,  Equal  Right, — 
A  name  like  a  star,  a  name  of  light. 
I  give  you  France! 

Give  us  a  name  to  stir  the  blood 

With  a  warmer  glow  and  a  swifter  flood, 

At  the  touch  of  a  courage  that  knows  not 

fear, — 

A  name  like  the  sound  of  a  trumpet,  clear, 
And  silver-sweet,  and  iron-strong, 
That  calls  three  million  men  to  their  feet, 
Ready  to  march,  and  steady  to  meet 
The    foes   who   threaten   that   name   with 

wrong, — 

A  name  that  rings  like  a  battle-song. 
I  give  you  France! 


26 


Give  us  a  name  to  move  the  heart 
With  the  strength  that  noble  griefs  impart, 
A  name  that  speaks  of  the  blood  outpoured 
To  save   mankind  from  the  sway  of  the 

sword, — 

A  name  that  calls  on  the  world  to  share 
In  the  burden  of  sacrificial  strife 
When  the  cause  at  stake  is  the  world's  free 

life 

And  the  rule  of  the  people  everywhere, — 
A  name  like  a  vow,  a  name  like  a  prayer. 
I  give  you  France! 

The  Hague,  September,  1916. 


[27] 


JEANNE  D'ARC  RETURNS 
1914-1916 

What   hast  thou  done,   O  womanhood  of 

France, 
Mother  and  daughter,  sister,  sweetheart, 

wife, 
What  hast  thou  done,  amid  this  fateful 

strife, 

To  prove  the  pride  of  thine  inheritance 
In  this  fair  land  of  freedom  and  romance? 
I  hear  thy  voice  with  tears  and  courage 

rife, — 
Smiling  against  the  swords  that  seek  thy 

life  — 

Make  answer  in  a  noble  utterance: 
"I  give  France  all  I  have,  and  all  she  asks. 
Would  it  were  more !     Ah,  let  her  ask 

and  take: 
My  hands  to  nurse  her  wounded,  do  her 

tasks, — 
My  feet  to  run  her  errands  through  the 

dark, — 

My  heart  to  bleed  in  triumph  for  her  sake, — 
And  all  my  soul  to  follow  thee,  Jeanne 
d'Arc!" 

April  16,  1916. 


[28] 


INTERLUDES  IN  HOLLAND 


THE   HEAVENLY    HILLS    OF 
HOLLAND 

The  heavenly  hills  of  Holland, — 

How  wondrously  they  rise 
Above  the  smooth  green  pastures 

Into  the  azure  skies! 
With  blue  and  purple  hollows, 

With  peaks  of  dazzling  snow, 
Along  the  far  horizon 

The  clouds  are  marching  slow. 

No  mortal  foot  has  trodden 

The  summits  of  that  range, 
Nor  walked  those  mystic  valleys 

Whose  colors  ever  change; 
Yet  we  possess  their  beauty, 

And  visit  them  in  dreams, 
While  the  ruddy  gold  of  sunset 

From  cliff  and  canyon  gleams. 

In  days  of  cloudless  weather 

They  melt  into  the  light; 
When  fog  and  mist  surround  us 

They're  hidden  from  our  sight; 
But  when  returns  a  season 

Clear  shining  after  rain, 
While  the  northwest  wind  is  blowing, 

We  see  the  hills  again. 


31 


The  old  Dutch  painters  loved  them, 

Their  pictures  show  them  clear, — 
Old  Hobbema  and  Ruysdael, 

Van  Goyen  and  Vermeer. 
Above  the  level  landscape, 

Rich  polders,  long-armed  mills, 
Canals  and  ancient  cities, — 

Float  Holland's  heavenly  hills. 

The  Hague,  November,  1916. 


THE  PROUD  LADY 

When  Stavoren  town  was  in  its  prime 
And  queened  the  Zuyder  Zee, 

Its  ships  went  out  to  every  clime 
With  costly  merchantry. 

A  lady  dwelt  in  that  rich  town, 

The  fairest  in  all  the  land; 
She  walked  abroad  in  a  velvet  gown, 

With  many  rings  on  her  hand. 

Her  hair  was  bright  as  the  beaten  gold, 

Her  lips  as  coral  red, 
Her  roving  eyes  were  blue  and  bold, 

And  her  heart  with  pride  was  fed. 

For  she  was  proud  of  her  father's  ships, 
As  she  watched  them  gayly  pass; 

And  pride  looked  out  of  her  eyes  and  lips 
When  she  saw  herself  in  the  glass. 

"Now  come,"  she  said  to  the  captains  ten, 
Who  were  ready  to  put  to  sea, 

"Ye  are  all  my  men  and  my  father's  men, 
And  what  will  ye  do  for  me?" 

"Go  north  and  south,  go  east  and  west, 

And  get  me  gifts,"  she  said. 
"And  he  who  bringeth  me  home  the  best, 

With  that  man  will  I  wed." 
[33] 


So  they  all  fared  forth,  and  sought  with  care 

In  many  a  famous  mart, 
For  satins  and  silks  and  jewels  rare, 

To  win  that  lady's  heart. 

She  looked  at  them  all  with  never  a  thought, 

And  careless  put  them  by; 
"I  am  not  fain  of  the  things  ye  brought, 

Enough  of  these  have  I." 

The  last  that  came  was  the  head  of  the  fleet, 

His  name  was  Jan  Borel; 
He  bent  his  knee  at  the  lady's  feet, — 

In  truth  he  loved  her  well. 

"I've  brought  thee  home  the  best  i'  the 
world, 

A  shipful  of  Danzig  corn ! " 
She  stared  at  him  long;  her  red  lips  curled, 

Her  blue  eyes  filled  with  scorn. 

"Now  out  on  thee,  thou  feckless  kerl, 

A  loon  thou  art,"  she  said. 
"Am  I  a  starving  beggar  girl? 

Shall  I  ever  lack  for  bread?" 

"Go  empty  all  thy  sacks  of  grain 

Into  the  nearest  sea. 
And  never  show  thy  face  again 

To  make  a  mock  of  me." 
F341 


Young  Jan  Borel,  he  answered  naught, 

But  in  the  harbor  cast 
The  sacks  of  golden  corn  he  brought, 

And  groaned  when  fell  the  last. 

Then  Jan  Borel,  he  hoisted  sail, 

And  out  to  sea  he  bore; 
He  passed  the  Helder  in  a  gale 

And  came  again  no  more. 

But  the  grains  of  corn  went  drifting  down 

Like  devil-scattered  seed, 
To  sow  the  harbor  of  the  town 

With  a  wicked  growth  of  weed. 

The  roots  were  thick  and  the  silt  and  sand 

Were  gathered  day  by  day, 
Till  not  a  furlong  out  from  land 

A  shoal  had  barred  the  way. 

Then  Stavoren  town  saw  evil  years, 

No  ships  could  out  or  in, 
The  boats  lay  rotting  at  the  piers, 

And  the  mouldy  grain  in  the  bin. 

The  grass-grown  streets  were  all  forlorn, 

The  town  in  ruin  stood, 
The  lady's  velvet  gown  was  torn, 

Her  rings  were  sold  for  food. 


35 


Her  father  had  perished  long  ago, 

But  the  lady  held  her  pride, 
She  walked  with  a  scornful  step  and  slow, 

Till  at  last  in  her  rags  she  died. 

Yet  still  on  the  crumbling  piers  of  the  town, 
When  the  midnight  moon  shines  free, 

A  woman  walks  in  a  velvet  gown 
And  scatters  corn  in  the  sea. 


[36] 


FLOOD-TIDE  OF  FLOWERS 
IN  HOLLAND 

The  laggard  winter  ebbed  so  slow 
With  freezing  rain  and  melting  snow, 
It  seemed  as  if  the  earth  would  stay 
Forever  where  the  tide  was  low, 
In  sodden  green  and  watery  gray. 

But  now  from  depths  beyond  our  sight, 
The  tide  is  turning  in  the  night, 
And  floods  of  color  long  concealed 
Come  silent  rising  toward  the  light, 
Through  garden  bare  and  empty  field. 

And  first,  along  the  sheltered  nooks, 
The  crocus  runs  in  little  brooks 
Of  joyance,  till  by  light  made  bold 
They  show  the  gladness  of  their  looks 
In  shining  pools  of  white  and  gold. 

The  tiny  scilla,  sapphire  blue, 

Is  gently  seeping  in,  to  strew 

The  earth  with  heaven;  and  sudden  rills 

Of  sunlit  yellow,  sweeping  through, 

Spread  into  lakes  of  daffodils. 


[37] 


The  hyacinths,  with  fragrant  heads, 
Have  overflowed  their  sandy  beds, 
And  fill  the  earth  with  faint  perfume, 
The  breath  that  Spring  around  her  sheds. 
And  now  the  tulips  break  in  bloom ! 

A  sea,  a  rainbow-tinted  sea, 
A  splendor  and  a  mystery, 
Floods  o'er  the  fields  of  faded  gray: 
The  roads  are  full  of  folks  in  glee, 
For  lo, — to-day  is  Easter  Day ! 

April.  1916. 


[38] 


ENTER  AMERICA 


AMERICA'S  PROSPERITY 

They  tell  me  thou  art  rich,  my  country :  gold 
In  glittering  flood  has  poured  into  thy 

chest; 
Thy  flocks  and  herds  increase,  thy  barns 

are  pressed 
With  harvest,  and  thy  stores  can  hardly 

hold 
Their    merchandise;    unending    trains    are 

rolled 

Along  thy  network  rails  of  East  and  West; 
Thy  factories  and  forges  never  rest; 
Thou  art  enriched  in  all  things  bought  and 
sold! 

But    dost    thou    prosper?     Better    news    I 

crave. 

O  dearest  country,  is  it  well  with  thee 
Indeed,  and  is  thy  soul  in  health? 
A  nobler  people,  hearts  more  wisely  brave, 
And  thoughts  that  lift  men  up  and  make 

them  free, — 
These  are  prosperity  and  vital  wealth ! 

The  Hague,  October  1,  1916. 


[41 


THE  GLORY  OF  SHIPS 

The  glory  of  ships  is  an  old,  old  song, 
since  the  days  when  the  sea-rovers  ran 

In  their  open  boats  through  the  roaring  surf, 
and  the  spread  of  the  world  began; 

The  glory  of  ships  is  a  light  on  the  sea, 
and  a  star  in  the  story  of  man. 

When  Homer  sang  of  the  galleys  of  Greece 
that  conquered  the  Trojan  shore, 

And  Solomon  lauded  the  barks  of  Tyre  that 
brought  great  wealth  to  his  door, 

'Twas  little  they  knew,  those  ancient  men, 
what  would  come  of  the  sail  and  the  oar. 

The  Greek  ships  rescued  the  West  from  the 

East, 

when  they  harried  the  Persians  home; 
And  the  Roman  ships  were  the  wings  of 

strength 

that  bore  up  the  empire,  Rome; 
And  the  ships  of  Spain  found  a  wide  new 

world, 
far  over  the  fields  of  foam. 


[42] 


Then  the  tribes  of  courage  at  last  saw  clear 
that  the  ocean  was  not  a  bound, 

But  a  broad  highway,  and  a  challenge  to 

seek 
for  treasure  as  yet  unfound; 

So  the  fearless  ships  fared  forth  to  the  search, 
in  joy  that  the  globe  was  round. 

Their    hulls    were    heightened,    their    sails 
spread  out, 

they  grew  with  the  growth  of  thelrquest; 
They  opened  the  secret  doors  of  $ne  East, 

and  the  golden  gates  of  the  ^est; 
And  many  a  city  of  high  renown 

was  proud  of  a  ship  on  its  crest. 

The   fleets   of   England   and  Holland   and 

France 

were  at  strife  with  each  other  and  Spain; 
And  battle  and  storm  sent  a  myriad  ships 

to  sleep  in  the  depths  of  the  main; 
But   the    seafaring   spirit    could  never    be 

drowned, 
and  it  filled  up  the  fleets  again. 


43 


They  greatened  and  grew,  with  the  aid  of 

steam, 

to  a  wonderful,  vast  array, 
That  carries  the  thoughts  and  the  traffic  of 

men 

into  every  harbor  and  bay; 
And  now  in  the  world-wide  work  of  the  ships 
'tis  England  that  leads  the  way. 

O  well  for  the  leading  that  follows  the  law 
of  a  common  right  on  the  sea! 

But  ill  for  the  leader  who  tries  to  hold 
what  belongs  to  mankind  in  fee ! 

The  way  of  the  ships  is  an  open  way, 
and  the  ocean  must  ever  be  free! 

Remember,  O  first  of  the  maritime  folk, 
how  the  rise  of  your  greatness  began. 

It  will  live  if  you  safeguard  the  round-the- 
world  road 
from  the  shame  of  a  selfish  ban; 

For  the  glory  of  ships  is  a  light  on  the  sea, 
and  a  star  in  the  story  of  man! 

September  It,  1916. 


44 


MARE  LIBERUM 


You  dare  to  say  with  perjured  lips, 
"We  fight  to  make  the  ocean  free"? 
You,  whose  black  trail  of  butchered  ships 
Bestrews  the  bed  of  every  sea 
Where  German  submarines  have  wrought 
Their  horrors !     Have  you  never  thought, — 
What  you  call  freedom,  men  call  piracy ! 


ii 

Unnumbered  ghosts  that  haunt  the  wave, 
Where  you  have  murdered,  cry  you  down; 
And  seamen  whom  you  would  not  save, 
Weave  now  in  weed-grown  depths  a  crown 
Of  shame  for  your  imperious  head, — 
A  dark  memorial  of  the  dead, — 
Women  and  children  whom  you  sent  to 
drown. 

in 

Nay,  not  till  thieves  are  set  to  guard 
The  gold,  and  corsairs  called  to  keep 
O'er  peaceful  commerce  watch  and  ward, 
And  wolves  to  herd  the  helpless  sheep, 
Shall  men  and  women  look  to  thee, 
Thou  ruthless  Old  Man  of  the  Sea, 
To  safeguard  law  and  freedom  on  the  deep ! 
[451 


IV 

In  nobler  breeds  we  put  our  trust: 

The  nations  in  whose  sacred  lore 

The  "Ought"  stands  out  above  the  "Must," 

And  honor  rules  in  peace  and  war. 

With  these  we  hold  in  soul  and  heart, 

With  these  we  choose  our  lot  and  part, 

Till  Liberty  is  safe  on  sea  and  shore. 

London  Times,  February  12,  1917. 


46 


"LIBERTY  ENLIGHTENING  THE 
WORLD" 

Thou  warden  of  the  western  gate,  above 

Manhattan  Bay, 
The  fogs  of  doubt  that  hid  thy  face  are 

driven  clean  away: 
Thine  eyes  at  last  look  far  and  clear,  thou 

liftest  high  thy  hand 
To  spread  the  light  of  liberty  world-wide 

for  every  land. 

No  more  thou  dreamest  of  a  peace  reserved 
alone  for  thee, 

While  friends  are  fighting  for  thy  cause  be 
yond  the  guardian  sea: 

The  battle  that  they  wage  is  thine;  thou  fall- 
est  if  they  fall; 

The  swollen  flood  of  Prussian  pride  will 
sweep  unchecked  o'er  all. 

O  cruel  is  the  conquer-lust  in  Hohenzollern 
brains : 

The  paths  they  plot  to  gain  their  goal  are 
dark  with  shameful  stains: 

No  faith  they  keep,  no  law  revere,  no  god 
but  naked  Might; — 

They  are  the  foemen  of  mankind.  Up,  Lib 
erty,  and  smite ! 


47 


Britain,  and  France,  and  Italy,  and  Russia 

newly  born, 
Have  waited  for  thee  in  the  night.     Oh, 

come  as  comes  the  morn ! 
Serene  and  strong  and  full  of  faith,  America, 

arise, 
With  steady  hope  and  mighty  help  to  join 

thy  brave  Allies. 

O  dearest  country  of  my  heart,  home  of  the 
high  desire, 

Make  clean  thy  soul  for  sacrifice  on  Free 
dom's  altar-fire: 

For  thou  must  suffer,  thou  must  fight,  until 
the  war-lords  cease, 

And  all  the  peoples  lift  then*  heads  in  liberty 
and  peace. 

London  Times,  April  12,  1917. 


48 


THE  OXFORD  THRUSHES 


I  never  thought  again  to  hear 
The  Oxford  thrushes  singing  clear, 
Amid  the  February  rain, 
Their  sweet,  indomitable  strain. 

A  wintry  vapor  lightly  spreads 
Among  the  trees,  and  round  the  beds 
Where  daffodil  and  jonquil  sleep, 
Only  the  snowdrop  wakes  to  weep. 

It  is  not  springtime  yet.     Alas, 
What  dark,  tempestuous  days  must  pass, 
Till  England's  trial  by  battle  cease, 
And  summer  comes  again  with  peace. 

The  lofty  halls,  the  tranquil  towers, 
Where  Learning  in  untroubled  hours 
Held  her  high  court,  serene  in  fame, 
Are  lovely  still,  yet  not  the  same. 

The  novices  in  fluttering  gown 
No  longer  fill  the  ancient  town, 
But  fighting  men  in  khaki  drest — 
And  in  the  Schools  the  wounded  rest. 


[49] 


Ah,  far  away,  'neath  stranger  skies 
Full  many  a  son  of  Oxford  lies, 
And  whispers  from  his  warrior  grave, 
"I  died  to  keep  the  faith  you  gave." 

The  mother  mourns,  but  does  not  fail, 
Her  courage  and  her  love  prevail 
O'er  sorrow,  and  her  spirit  hears 
The  promise  of  triumphant  years. 

Then  sing,  ye  thrushes,  in  the  rain 
Your  sweet  indomitable  strain. 
Ye  bring  a  word  from  God  on  high 
And  voices  in  our  hearts  reply. 


50 


HOMEWARD   BOUND 

Home,  for  my  heart  still  calls  me; 

Home,  through  the  danger  zone; 
Home,  whatever  befalls  me, 

I  will  sail  again  to  my  own ! 

Wolves  of  the  sea  are  hiding 

Closely  along  the  way, 
Under  the  water  biding 

Their  moment  to  rend  and  slay. 

Black  is  the  eagle  that  brands  them, 
Black  are  their  hearts  as  the  night, 

Black  is  the  hate  that  sends  them 
To  murder  but  not  to  fight. 

Flower  of  the  German  Culture, 
Boast  of  the  Kaiser's  Marine, 

Choose  for  your  emblem  the  vulture, 
Cowardly,  cruel,  obscene ! 

Forth  from  her  sheltered  haven 
Our  peaceful  ship  glides  slow, 

Noiseless  in  flight  as  a  raven, 
Gray  as  a  hoodie  crow. 


51] 


She  doubles  and  turns  in  her  bearing, 
Like  a  twisting  plover  she  goes; 

The  way  of  her  westward  faring 
Only  the  captain  knows. 

In  a  lonely  bay  concealing 
She  lingers  for  days,  and  slips 

At  dusk  from  her  covert,  stealing 
Thro'  channels  feared  by  the  ships. 

Brave  are  the  men,  and  steady, 
Who  guide  her  over  the  deep, — 

British  mariners,  ready 

To  face  the  sea-wolf's  leap. 

Lord  of  the  winds  and  waters, 
Bring  our  ship  to  her  mark, 

Safe  from  this  game  of  hide-and-seek 
With  murderers  in  the  dark ! 

On  the  S.  S.  Baltic,  May,  1917. 


AA    001  228176    2 


